Deus Ex
by grendels
Summary: She gives him that sideways smile and this time, not even he can pretend that he doesn't know what's coming around. /Alec x Isabelle, WIP/
1. The Fool

**Summary: **She gives him that sideways smile and this time, not even he can pretend that he doesn't know what's coming around.

**Author's Note**: Okay, so this is remaining a possible WIP. I really like how this turned out and it fits into what I already have down for _Deus Ex_ so I figured "Hey, why not?". So this is the prologue. As for how DE is chugging along, I'm currently in the stages of planning and have run into a plot snag on the menchanics of locking Runes. It's going to take *cue scary music* research. It's the prologue but it takes place during the story, if that makes any sense. Updates will come at the pace of molasses in January due to HS entrance exams and Confirmation stuff. But they will come. I hope.

Also: If you guys reading this story haven't already, pleasepleaseplease go check out the MI fanfiction awards forum. We need noms. And a few more judges, I believe.

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"_Push it, baby, push it baby, out of control, this is the same old dance that you already know."-"Starstrukk": 3OH!3_

She gripes the arms of the chair and inhales deeply. It's been a long time since she's done something like this. It wasn't supposed to happen, this…thing that she and Alec have. She'd say it was Dad's fault but that would be denying the small part of her that has been sitting in her head all these years, the part of her that's been making her stomach clench every time he tells her "Good Night", the part of her that told her to kiss him and the part of her that had no regrets about what she did, what she was going to do.

Isabelle can twist and wriggle all she'd like, but she can't turn him away, can't turn herself away. Her heart thuds in her chest and she prays to God that she remembered to lock the door, on the off chance that Robert returns home early, because she leans forward and his hands are on her waist and her fingers are in his hair and oh god oh god oh god this can't end well. It's never ended well the other times, what's so special about now?

It's been building up for years, she tells herself- to stop the painful cling of guilt in her chest. She saw this coming. They both saw it coming. She remembers Alec and Jace and the way she loved them, sometimes more intensely than others. It's a good memory, she recalls, though is hurts a bit, like soap in the corner of her eye.

But she's here and he's there and she might as well just go with it because there's blood rushing in her ears and his skin is cool against her lips and there's something in his eyes, something untouched and feral and she's pretty sure that the expression is mirrored in her own. She hopes, she prays, she wishes.

He tastes like mint, probably from that gum he's always chewing and he smells like notebook pages and familiarity. His hands are up her skirt and his fingers touch in places they apparently aren't supposed to and there's something welling up inside her chest. It feels a little bit like lust and a little bit like pain and a little bit like doubt but she's ignores it because it's been there for a while now and what's the hope of trying to get rid of something you brought upon yourself?

The ticking of the grandfather clock chimes in her ear and in the back of her mind; she wonders what her mother would think of them now.


	2. The Death

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm kinda in love with this fic, even though it's been giving me a lot of trouble, plotline wise. If it were up to Julie, this whole thing would consist of "HOMIGOD ALEC I LOVE YOU!" "HOMIGOD ISABELLE I LOVE YOU TOO!" "LET'S HAVE SOME CRAZY SEX!" "OKAY!", so just be glad that she's keeping her hands off this project. Chapter 2 is chugging along, admittedly, quite slowly. Should be up in about a week. Hugs and Muffin Baskets to Nikki for the beta. =)

"_Then you hold your breath and count to nine, hoping that soon somebody will find you, find you."-Erin McCarley "Pony (It's Okay)"_

From this corner of the universe, the world is hazy for Isabelle Lightwood.

She yanked at the hem of her dress, feeling but not quite registering the slide of the soft silk between her fingers. The black material swished around her legs for a second before settling in comfortably around her. Surprisingly enough, she was beginning to regret her choice of clothing. Thinking that it would be a great "Thanks for dying, mom" to wear the shortest dress she could get away with to the wake, she had gotten one of her old ones tailored; at least five inches of the skirt had been sliced away. The skirt of the dress now rested about mid-thigh, something Alec hadn't been too happy with.

She can remember his face as she had walked into his room, in her ridiculously short dress and her ankle boots and bare legs. He had done a visible double-take, she recalled, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared at her for a few long seconds. There was something tight, something oddly constrained in his voice as he had pointed his finger towards his doorway. "Go put some tights on." Her response was easy; it was a conversation they had every time she wore something he didn't like. "No." His eyes had narrowed, his hand shaking slightly. "Now," he threatened through clenched teeth.

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Third time tended to be the charm.

"Isabelle Jane Lightwood, go put on some tights or get a longer dress, right this minute." That edge to his voice. He never had used that sharp tone with her; it was always directed at either Jace or Max.

"Alec, I like this dress. I'm keeping it on."

The bang his fist made as he slammed it down on his desk was enough to make her jump. "Goddammit, Isabelle!" He shouted, his eyes blazing as he glared at her. "I will not have you looking like some whore at Mom and Max's wake! Do you understand me?" Fear had contracted in her gut. In all of her sixteen years Alec had never, ever yelled at her like that. He had raised his voice with her, of course, but he had never gotten mad at her with that much anger, that much force. If she didn't know him as well as she did, she would have thought he was going to hit her.

The memory tickled the back of her mind as she snapped back into the present, the deep green of the parlor walls slowly swaying into focus. She groped into the air beside her for support, her fingers grasping onto the arm of a chair. Looking down, she saw a dainty Shadowhunter women was already occupying the seat, so she moved away, scanning the crowded room for a place to sit down. Her father was stationed near the coffins and Alec was nowhere to be found. Turning, she spotted a vacant chair over by the large picture window and she made her way over to it, flinging her body down onto its plush cushioning. Her hands drifted to the plum colored sash at her waist and she fingered the silk, frowning as she realized that her bow was lopsided. Again. Alec had told her to stop tying it and untying it but it just looked so messy.

It struck her as odd, really, that on the day of her mother and her brother's wake she was sitting down and musing about her sash. In all honesty, she was fairly used to it by this point. Both Alec and her father had been expecting a big, dramatic reaction from her, but all she could muster up was a few minutes of crying when her father delivered the news. And those tears were mostly for Max, not her mother.

That probably made her a horrible daughter. When you're informed that your mother and brother had just been murdered by a white-haired lunatic, wasn't it sort of obligatory to burst into tears and lock yourself in your room for six or seven days? That's what they all did on the TV shows. Minus the white-haired lunatic part.

It wasn't that she wasn't sad about what happened. She was desolate. It felt like someone had walked up to her and ripped a hole in her chest, leaving raw, jagged edges. But she wasn't screaming into her pillows at night, she wasn't sobbing late into the nights, shouting at God "Why?" She just lumbered around, like a zombie. No thoughts to her old life, what it was like before Mom and Max's death. Nothing on her mind but empty, muted pain.

"Stop it." Alec's voice dragged her out of her thoughts, his hand on her shoulder shaking her back into the real world. He hadn't cried at all about the deaths; he had barely showed any emotion at all. There was probably something she wasn't seeing, but, to the world, he was as strong and silent as ever.

"What?" She asked, glancing up at him.

"You're fiddling with your sash again. I already told you to knock it off." His voice was raw and had a frayed edge to it, probably from talking to just about every person in the room. She looked down to see that her fingers had unconsciously begun to pull at the ribbon, loosening the bow that sat just below her hip. She muttered sorry before straightening it, sitting up in the chair.

"Has anyone stopped by?" Twisting around in her seat to look him in the face, Isabelle saw that he had already pulled up a chair to sit next to her. He already knew that by "anyone" she meant "Anyone I actually care about".

"Magnus was here earlier, but he had to go. Some vampire versus werewolf thing going down in the Bronx." Alec fiddled with his tie, tapping his finger against the knot at the hollow of his neck.

"Yeah, yeah, I saw him." Isabelle shrugged it off. In her mind, Magnus didn't exactly fall into the "anyone she actually cared about" category. 'Who was that girl following him along?" A younger girl, maybe about Clary's age, had been slinking along behind the warlock. Isabelle had remembered wondering if she had braces because every time she parted her lips, the overhead lighting caught on something shiny in her mouth.

"Her? Magnus introduced us, but I can't remember her name. Something with an 'A' and a double 's'. Alyssa, maybe. She's a Witch who specializes in locks and cages and apparently Magnus needed her for that fight I was telling you about." He was doing his best to shrug it off, but he couldn't hide the way his eyes had hardened when she had brought it up.

"Hmm. Interesting." Isabelle filed the information and Alec's subsequent reaction away for later use. "Anyone else?" Glancing around the room, she tried to pick out any familiar faces, but all she saw was an endless sea of strangers.

"Clary is here, as is her mother, but Jocelyn is with Dad and Clary and Jace ran off hours ago." Alec made a face and Isabelle giggled. He was trying to make her feel better and she knew it, but any jokes he could pull on a day like this were worth laughing at.

"Ew. I honestly did not need the image you are suggesting inside my head." She grimaced, to let him silently know that she hated Clary as much as he did. They could play-act and pretend to get along with her for Jace's sake, but there were no rules against despising her when the two of them were alone.

"But, other than that- no one. The mundane sends him sympathies and regrets not being able to tell us in person. Or so Clary says." Isabelle was about to correct him, to remind him that it was "the vampire" now, but decided against it. There was enough going on now, she didn't need another argument with Alec piling on top of it.

They sat there for a while, in silence, no less, saying hello to the occasional mourner who greeted them, chatting for a minute or two to whoever came along. The parlor of the Institute was packed with people from wall to wall, a steady line snaking around the room for people to pay their last respects to the deceased. Glasses of champagne and trays of fruit had been strategically placed around the room by Isabelle early that morning. You could say a lot about her, but you could never say that she was a bad hostess, so long as she didn't cook any of the food that was served.

Time dragged onwards, seven o' clock, eight o'clock, nine o'clock. The steady rush of people began to die down until all that was left in the room were the remaining Lightwoods, the coffins, and Ms. Fray.

"Robert." She whispered, approaching him from across the room. Isabelle watched through slitted eyes; she had pretended to fall asleep a long time ago. Alec had gotten a book and was still curled up in the chair next to her, his jacket now removed, his tie loose and hanging. Isabelle observed as Ms. Fray embraced her father, patting him on the back and telling him "I'm so sorry" while wiping her misty eyes with a linen handkerchief. Turning on one heel, she started towards the back of the room, where Isabelle and Alec were stationed. Alec straightened up at her arrival, tightening his tie and clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Alec." She had yet to do the usual embrace-and-leave maneuver that everyone else had that night. Instead she just stared at him, biting her lip. "Alec, I'm sorry. Your mother was a great person." Alec nodded stiffly, wringing his hands. Ms. Fray hugged him and he lightly embraced her back. Isabelle swore that she heard him sniffling.

Shutting her eyes, she stayed in her fake sleep position and Ms. Fray, not wanting to wake her up, simply kissed her on the forehead and straightened up before leaving. Isabelle could see Clary lingering outside the doorway to the parlor, eyeing her and Alec warily.

Once Ms. Fray had gone, silence swelled in the room, crashing down around Isabelle's face as she fake-woke up, sleepily glancing around the messy room.

"Alec, Isabelle." Her father spoke to them from the doorway. "You should probably go to bed. The Silent Brothers will be here soon to escort your mother's body to the Bone City." She was about to protest- she wanted to see the Silent Brothers, she wanted to go with her mother, but Alec put a hand on her arm.

"Alright, dad." He stood up, dragging Isabelle up with him. She struggled in his grasp, trying to worm away from his iron grip, but he firmly pulled her along, not looking back. He let go once they reached her room, but she shook her head.

"You can't genuinely expect me to sleep tonight, do you?" Her voice was laced with her trademark poison as she tried to make each word hurt as much as possible. She had a sudden urge to make someone feel pain, and lots of it. Alec rolled his eyes and opened her door for her.

"Bed." He instructed, ushering her inside. With force that surprised even her, she grabbed hold of the doorknob and slammed it shut, staying outside in the hallway with him. Without a word, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder before opening her bedroom door and stomping inside. She gave a shriek of protest, pounding at his back with her fists and screaming at him to put her down. He did, slinging her onto her bed and running out, swiftly closing the door behind him.

Under normal circumstances, she would have gone after him, but this was, as anyone could see, definitely not normal circumstances. So she stayed in bed, playing with the hem of her dress and staring at the ceiling. A few times, she tried to make herself cry as a final goodbye to Mom and Max, but the tears just wouldn't come.

The hole in her chest was growing larger now, eating away at the rest of her body. She shifted and winced and exhaled deeply, untying her sash and letting it drop to the floor. Shedding the rest of the dress and yanking on a nightgown, she was about to slide back into bed when she heard a noise coming from Alec's room next to hers.

For the first few minutes, she just tried to block it out. She had been living in the room next to him all her life and, eventually, she had learned that when strange noises come from your brother's room, you put a pillow over your head and ignore it.

But she did want to make sure he was okay and everything. So she tiptoed across her room and placed an ear to the wall, listening hard. It didn't take long for her to realize what the noise was.

Alec was crying.


	3. The High Priestess

**A/N: **Guess I don't have much to say. –shrug- I don't like this chapter, but, then again, I really don't like this part of the storyline at all, so that might explain it. Thanks so everyone who has read and reviewed so far! It's really late over here, so if there are any typos that I didn't catch, I'll have them fixed by tommorow.

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"_Prescribed pills to offset the shakes to offset the pills you know you should take it a day at a time." –Panic! At The Disco "Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks" _

Normally, Isabelle did her best to stay out of Alec's personal business. She certainly didn't want him meddling in her personal things, so she returned the courtesy by not looking too much into what he didn't put out into the open for her. She learned most of what she knew about him by mere observation and god forbid she ever tried to confront him with what she found out about him.

The reason she never had brought any of it up was because there never was a reason too. Isabelle, above all things, hated doing something without a reason to do so. Everything has an equal and opposite reaction. If she had thought Alec was going to commit suicide or something, yeah, she would bring it up, but she knew him far too well to assume that he would do something that stupid.

Had she heard Alec crying a week ago, before all this happened, she would have backed off and shut up about it. But this was different. Things had changed. Despite the fact that she knew it would be extremely awkward for both of them if she just walked in there, she very well couldn't just sit in her room and listen to him sob on the other side of the wall. A simple tap on the door and a "Are you okay?" would suffice to soothe her conscience. He was going to lie, of course, and say yes when he knew and she knew and he knew that she knew that he was very much not okay, but at least Isabelle could go to sleep knowing that she did _something_.

She padded down the hallway, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was only a few feet from her door to Alec's but, by the time she got there, goose bumps had already started to prickle up her arms from the cold. Her knuckles ached as she rapped them once, twice against the wood. "Alec?" she called softly. No answer. "Alec?" she said, a bit louder. Still, nothing, though she could hear vague sniffs coming from inside. Feeling very intrusive, she turned to knob and stepped in, peering around the side of Alec's desk, which was right next to the door and blocking her view of him.

"Alec?" Another step. It was infinitely warmer in here. One more step and she could see around the desk. He was sitting up, propping himself against his headboard, a pillow clamped to his chest. He whipped his head around to look at her, his eyes red-rimmed and watery; his face covered with the red blotches the come from crying really, really hard.

"Isabelle!" he choked out, quickly wiping his nose and eyes and sitting up straighter. "What are you doing here?" Was he honestly trying to pass this off like she hadn't just walked in on him crying? Did he seriously think that she was that stupid?

"I heard…" She vaguely gestured to the wall as she stepped all the way in, closing his door. "I thought I heard you crying." Her voice sounded so small, like she was scared or something. Mentally, she reminded herself to straighten up, to tilt her chin. Showing fear was a weakness.

"Crying?" Something in his eyes flashed, but he shook him head. "No, I'm not crying. I'm fine."

Like she was going to buy that.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, advancing towards the bed. He unconsciously scooted back, pressing his back into the corner of his headboard and the wall.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Perfectly fine. You should go back to bed."

"It's okay to cry, Alec." Another glint of that something in his eyes, like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"I know." No he didn't.

"Are you absolutely positive that you're alright?" Something inside her smiled a bit. This, this interrogation banter, was something she was familiar with, territory that she could play better than the concerned-younger-sister one.

"I'm _fine_, Isabelle!" The sheets balled between his fists as he clenched his finger, his eyes narrowing. Alright. She was getting sick and tired of this. Sick of him hiding from her, tired of pretending that she could find him. Grinding her teeth together, she stepped forward again.

"Stop lying."

A muscle in his jaw jumped and the bluish vein that snaked from below his ear and down his neck started throbbing so badly that she could see it, even in the dim light. He didn't even have to say anything; he just sat back and crushed the pillow to his chest once more. With a sigh, she cleared the last few steps between her and the bed with four strides and hitched herself up, scrambling to sit beside him.

It was just as awkward as she had predicted, the silence ebbing and flowing around them. Isabelle didn't want to say anything and she was sure that Alec probably couldn't say anything, on account of him being the verge of tears. It was then that she noticed that his right hand had fallen into his lap, while his left stilled remained tight against the pillow. With a delicate, almost cautious sort of movement, she gently reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. She squeezed his hand and an overwhelming sense of relief overcame her when he squeezed back.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, the air catching in his throat as he exhaled. "Dad will hear." He chocked, his mouth quivering.

"No, he won't." Isabelle reassured him, shifting closer. Alec resumed his staring contest with his mattresses for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Jace." His voice broke and clamped his mouth shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Jace will hear." Isabelle shook her head and placed her free hand on his forearm.

"I promise, Alec, no one will hear. Dad and Jace are probably already asleep by now." It was a small reassurance, but small reassurances were all she could offer right now.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He buried his face the pillow, sucking in a huge amount of air and holding it, his nails scraping helplessly against the pillowcase. Gradually, his shoulders began to shake and when he finally brought his head up, his hair rayed out around his face from the static electricity. Tears rivered down his cheeks and he angrily brushed them away with the back of his free hand, gasping and shuddering and drowning all at once. With a something that was half like a whimper and half like a yell, he whipped the pillow across the room and it careened into his bookshelf. Sharp, bitter sobs filled the room and Isabelle did her best to stay stoic. If she started crying then they would both really lose it. His hand was still holding hers and she gently tried to detangle her fingers from his.

No sooner than she had succeeded and was pulling her hand away then did he reached for it again, his face buried in his free hand and his fingers blindingly groping for hers.

Unfortunately, that was the last straw.

Everything that had been building up the past few days, all the emotions she claimed/ thought, she wasn't having welled up in her chest instantly, putting so much pressure on her that she bent forward at the waist, crying and choking, trying to suck in air as fast as possible before she fainted. She shut her eyes and simply let the tears take over. It was no use fighting anymore. It was over. Alec's arm was around her shoulders and her face was pressed against his chest and she sat there and cried with him, her palms clasped to her face.

She didn't even try to put words to the feelings or to try and label and organize the sudden thrust of emotion pounding away in her chest. She let it happened because this was a specific type of sadness, a type of desolation that she had never experienced before. Something deeper than depression, something worse than regret. The kind of sadness you feel when everything you've ever known just…breaks. And there's no way to change it.

So she does the only thing she can possible do. She sits in the darkness with Alec and cries with him until she falls asleep.

Through the whole night, she never once let go of his hand.


	4. The Tower

**The Tower**

_"I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take. When people run around in circles, it's a very, very mad world."- Gary Jules:"Mad World"_

She woke up to the sound of pouring rain.

For a moment she just laid there, listening to the clicking off the ceiling fan and the harsh clatter of the drops on the roof, taking in the blue walls and the white ceiling and the ache in her neck from sleeping with her head propped up against the headboard. It took her a second to remember the events of the previous night and where she was and who she was with and that Max was _dead_ and her mother was _dead_ and she had just, for the first time in what seemed like forever, cried herself to sleep.

Alec inhaled sharply beside her in his sleep and she jumped slightly, startled. When she looked to him, she couldn't help but giggle slightly. He had fallen asleep the same way she had-up against his headboard and over the course of the night, he had slid downward until his head was bent at what must have been a painfully awkward angle, with his chin touching his chest. There's something different about Alec when he's sleeping, she thinks. Something pure and unburdened, something that reminds her of innocent lost and maliciousness found. Alec used to be so different, before they started training, before Jace came. There used to be something open, something soft in his eyes.

But Shadowhunting changed (ruined) everything. One can only tolerate the sight of black blood spilling from a jagged, open wound for so long, for so many different cases. Isabelle remembers one fight, when they killed an ancient demon, a really crafty one, who managed to hold her human form until she died. The blood from her hole in her chest even glinted red in the light. Alec told Isabelle that he would never forget that moment when the light went out of her eyes, when the last few strands of whatever metaphysical life the demon help slipped out of her hellish fingers. It was one of the only times, he said, that he felt less like a Shadowhunter and more like a murderer.

Isabelle feels the same way. The only difference between Shadowhunting and murdering is who they kill. Jace doesn't care; demons aren't people, so he says. But Isabelle has this nightmare, this dream, where she kills a demon only to find out seconds later that she made a mistake in her calculations- it was actually a human and, without fail, she always wakes up screaming.

But she'd by lying if she didn't say she enjoyed what she did. Shadowhunting was what she was born to do. It was her calling, her only calling. Isabelle didn't have many natural abilities, but fighting was one of them. She loves being powerful, being skillful, being one of the only woman Shadowhunters. It makes her unique, special and there was nothing Isabelle Lightwood liked more than being special.

Alec shifted again, mumbling something and managing to get into an even more uncomfortable position. He was going to have quite the kink in his neck when he woke up the next morning if he didn't straighten out. Getting up on her knees next to him, she slid her arm underneath his shoulder, pulling him up against her chest while she used the rest of her body weight to push him farther down the bed. Satisfied that he was straightened out enough, she slide her hand up to cradle his head as she set him back on the bed. It was times like these that she wondered what sort of mother she would be. She hated little children, couldn't stand them at all. So whiny and needy and co-dependent. She could never have someone depending on her and only her for half their life. But then something like this would happen and that little, almost nonexistent well of compassion, of maternal instinct that was necessary to being a good mother would well up and spill over, flooding her insides and making her feel like she was light headed, almost faint.

She was backing off the bed, getting ready to head back to her own room when Alec's hand grabbed her knee. She inhaled sharply, frightened for a second. He looked to her, bleary eyed and lethargic and mumbled out something, a word, a name.

"What?" she asked, leaning closer, her hands pressing against the covers.

"Mom? Mom, is that you?" he muttered, his eyes strained to search her face, to try and find the features of their mother, the ones Isabelle knew she possessed. She hadn't known that such a little thing could make her lose it all over again.

Tears spilled over her lids, down her cheeks, burning like fire against her skin. She couldn't even begin to think about all the feelings pounding against her head. Too much for her to handle. Grabbing for Alec's hand on her knee, she gripped it as tight as should could. "Mom?" he asked again, still caught in sleep. Trying to answer him, all that came out were more sobs and she gasped to catch her breath.

"Shhhh." It was the only comprehensible sound she could make. "Shhh. Go back to bed." She pressed her palm to the side of his face, running her thumb along his cheek.

"Why are you crying?" She couldn't tell if he knew it was her or not. To be honest, she didn't really even care.

"It's fine." She lied, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. "Don't worry." He opens his mouth to say something, but seemed to decided against it, his eyelids fluttering as he drifted back into the fog of sleep

When he's sleeping, Alec almost looks like he did when they were younger. Naive and serious and pretty. It's enough to make her wish he slept forever, just to keep that look on his face. A smile tilts up at the corner of his mouth and she hopes he's having a good dream.

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**A/N: **Gotta admit, I like this chapter alot more then I liked the last one. Also, because I'm an attention whore: If you want to follow me on Twitter, I angst about my DE writer's block on there-- you can find the link to my page in the my profile. And there's usually updates approximating how long until I update this damn thing. The next chapter will be up in less then five months this time, I promise. Now only if The Little House was being as nice as this story is being....


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